After the Yule Ball
by AScrutunarace
Summary: What feelings are an attention-seeking teenager and a few doses of firewhiskey capable of sparking in cold-hearted Severus Snape? He tells us the story of Amy Parker, a shy slytherin who somehow touches the potions master's soul and reawakens feelings he's long given up on.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I am sure I don't own Harry Potter. Trust me.

**A/N:** This is a short story I've been working on. It will have a lemon in a later chapter, so some of you may want to stop reading now. Or not, I'm not here to jump to conclusions. Depending on how it goes, I might continue it, I have a few ideas I could try out. I hope you like it.

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**After The Yule Ball**

**Chapter One**

She had always caught my attention. Even as a first year, her potion-making skills towered over that of others her age. It was common to find her reading at the Slytherin table during meals, oblivious to the chatty housemates all around her. She had no friends, as far as I could tell. Her books were all the company she ever seemed to need, and I found that both curious and interesting at the same time.

I had always liked her. Not only because she was of my house, but because her personality had struck me as captivating. She was mysterious. You could never tell what went on behind her pale blue eyes. Oh, those eyes. Never would they be as deep and piercing as my dear Lily's were, but no one could resist the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, or how they grew wide when she was on the verge of mischief.

I was now accustomed to that sparkle that flashed me every time I inspected her always perfectly brewed potions. We locked a speechless dialogue that said enough for hours of conversation.

Amelia Parker was her name, or, as everyone called her, Amy. A simple name for a girl who displayed the most complex array of emotions one could ever dream of seeing.

I confess, at first sight, I mistook her introverted nature for arrogance and superiority, seeing as she was always eager to share a correct answer with her peers. Only then did I realize her actions were an attempt to grasp my attention. She admired me and, naturally, I was flattered. If only every student had respect for professors the way she did, I might actually find a true pleasure in teaching.

There is a brief, yet interesting story to our friendship. Convinced that Amy was yet another one of those show-off know-it-all's, I had sent her to detention in the beginning of first year. By her looks, one could easily mistake her for a rich, spoiled child. But I later came to realize she couldn't help it. She walked with a majestic elegance that had no intention of putting her above others. Instead, she feared a different posture would make others look down upon her. Those were wise words for an eleven year old.

As a punishment for her rather cheeky comments during one of our earlier classes, I kept her in my office, sorting old assignments into folders, while I corrected the previous day's homework. I do not remember how our conversation got started, but that evening, Amy confided me with all her secrets and luggage a girl so young should not carry.

She witnessed the deaths of all her close family members between the ages of one and five. With no one left, she was sent to live with an aunt in London. A few years later, she got married, and sent the child to the cares of her grandmother, an ancient woman who lived in the countryside.

Amy spoke casually of the subject and, by the time we were both finished, she had carefully organized all files in alphabetical order, sorted by year and house. That evening made me see her for what she really was: a lonely, damaged soul haunted by the ghosts of the past and who, somehow, found a way to hold her head high day after day. I must say I found an inspiration in her like I had never thought possible.

From that day on, she began to demand less attention during classes, slowly sinking into a quiet, shy personality. I would occasionally hold her back for a word for I figured someone with a past like hers must need someone for a simple conversation from one who could understand their feelings without judgment. For some reason, I did not want her to feel any more rejection than she already had.

The other teachers could never fully understand her. They would often complain to me of her indifferent attitude towards them. She told me the other classes were boring, and the professors couldn't hold her attention for long. I believe that changed within a few years.

In over 10 years of teaching, she was the only student to send me cards on Christmas and even on my birthdays. I did find it inappropriate at first, but then, she was the one variable in my never-changing life. For the first time in years, I felt human. Funny how the feelings I had long abandoned were instantly brought back by the innocence of a child.

That was, however, exclusively for her. During the times when she wasn't there, staring at me with her large blue eyes, I was back to my cold, menacing ways. The others just didn't deserve any softness from my part, if you could call it that.

Her fourth year was, coincidentally, the year the Potter boy entered his first. I would occasionally complain to her about his arrogance, constant habit of getting in trouble, and general disrespectful behavior. She would listen to all my wasteful rants in silence, but that was all I needed. Someone to listen to me. Someone to understand me. Something I hadn't had for longer than I could remember.

As Amy aged, she realized that she did not need approval from others. She became so sure of herself that I had never expected her adolescent attention-seeking methods. Her body began to reshape itself into a more mature appearance. Her development was faster and, allow me to say, more successful than that of her peers. Not that she wasn't stunning enough. I'm sure many of her housemates disliked her due to pure jealousy. But her new appearance gave her an attention she was not ready for and did not know how to deal with.

As the months went by, rumors began spreading and reached my ears. I was shocked to learn that the sweet girl who dazzled with her big blue eyes had created a reputation of being... I don't know how to word it. Week after week she was with a different boy, some older, some from different houses. She was often caught sneaking about after hours.

She had also started a habit of putting off her homework assignments, getting concern from all her other teachers. Naturally, I was asked to have a conversation with her, not as her head of house, not as her professor, but as her friend. The entire staff expected me to sort out their newest trouble, for I seemed to be the only one she would listen to.

I called her back after classes, one morning, before lunch. She sat on my table, crossing her legs. Her long blonde hair was swept to one side, and her robes unbuttoned far beyond what was acceptable.

I swallowed back my repulsion towards such behavior and began, "I'll be very straightforward, miss Parker. Your behavior these past few months has been unacceptable. Dumbledore has personally asked me to handle this situation and, quite frankly, I find that greatly unnecessary. I understand the unfortunate lack of a fatherly figure in your life might be the primary cause to this... situation you find yourself in, but you must put an end to this immediately. Are we clear?"

Amy nodded. Her face was flushed and she was clearly embarrassed. I had never been so harsh on her but I fear it was for the best. She left that room to return to her usual self. She may even have made friends after that, I do not know. We grew slightly apart, but I would still stop by her cauldron to receive a small smile and a flash of pale blue light from those curious eyes of hers.

She made it through fifth year, achieving good results in her O.W.L.s. Her top marks in potions did not only make me proud, but also content that I would still be seeing her in my classes. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her. Not yet.

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**A/N: **This is not the end, there will be more. Please leave a review. Liked it so far? Hated it? I would like to know. Thank you for your time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Here is chapter two. Yes, I'm in a hurry. I hope to upload everything by Christmas. This was one story I divided up so the chapters are quite uneven, sorry.

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**After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Two**

Her sixth year was one of much devotion to her studies. She had decided she wanted to become a healer. It made sense, since so many of her family members had been taken away from her by plagues and diseases. She spent almost all her time in the library, buried in books, trying to take in all the information she could.

She turned seventeen around mid September. I sent her a book as a present, which made her tearful with joy. The only other person who ever sent her gifts was her great-grandmother, who, at the time, was going through difficult times, with health problems and financial troubles.

She returned for her seventh year looking more beautiful than ever. It was amazing how much she had changed, and yet, she was still that same innocent little girl who was so different from the others.

Her excitement towards the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament concerned me. She claimed to have nothing to lose and everything to gain, which was, I daresay, complete foolishness. I eventually talked her out of her dreams of being a champion, with weak arguments I don't recall. I never fully understood my position regarding the tournament, but I suppose my concern for her safety outweighed my doubts. Amy needed someone to tell her when to stop and, apparently, I was that person.

Traditionally, a Yule Ball would be held on Christmas, and each head of house was required to instruct their students on the techniques of ballroom dancing, much to my dismay. This was humiliating, unnecessary, and pointless. Those no-good students were barely able to learn magic. Whatever would they make of waltzing?

Unable to convince Dumbledore to change his mind, or find someone else to teach the children, I was condemned to being locked in a room with a bunch of teenagers who didn't have the maturity to listen without making humorous remarks to each other, and had the uncanny need to laugh at the smallest things.

I began by explaining the reason we were gathered for such a joyful experience. I then proceeded to explain the importance of coordination, precision, rhythm, and concentration. Knowing I had to take time to demonstrate the procedure, I invited the one I felt the most comfortable around to help me with this task.

"Amy Parker, would you care to help me illustrate this step?" I said, while turning on the music.

She stepped forward, slowly and elegantly. She stood before me and smiled. She didn't seem at all bothered by my request. In fact, her eyes had that light in the corner that appeared when she was excited. I placed my hand on her waist and took her small hand into mine. Gradually, we both loosed up, and I was able to lead her across the dance floor.

The world around us completely forgotten, we gave in and let notes and scales be our guides. Despite the circumstances, it turned out to be quite enjoyable. I spun her around every now and then, getting a few sweet smiles in return. She seemed to be having fun with this.

But my male instincts managed to destroy our blissful atmosphere. I couldn't help it, her cleavage was inviting and tempting to the eyes. But the sight awakened on me feelings I had long been fighting back. Feelings that made me feel more embarrassed than any dance class could.

I abruptly ended my demonstrations and invited the students to form pairs and practice. I left the room quickly, and ran down the empty hallways. I entered a bathroom and bent over a sink, splashing water on my face to snap myself back to my senses. I looked in the mirror to find a reflection I did not recognize as my own. My breaths were shallow and my heartbeat fast. What was happening to me?

I calmed down enough to return to the room, where several pairs spun around madly. These students weren't able to take anything seriously. I raised my voice and demanded focus. Suddenly, I felt myself again.

Searching around for Amy, I caught a glimpse of her laughing loudly in the arms of another seventh year boy. An old feeling arose in my chest, as it had so many years ago. That same feeling that people have when someone they like is around someone you don't. Jealousy, they call it.

In contrast, seeing her enjoying herself with someone her age served as a reminder of how things should be. In fact, I felt a hint of happiness, both for the weight it took off my shoulders, but also because she was happy.

Class was dismissed a while later. The students, who were quite satisfied with the outcome of the event left to the sound of laughter and cheery conversation. Quite the opposite of how I felt on the inside. After a moment of meditation, I looked up to find Amy standing in the doorway, observing my movements. Speechless, I stared back at her, my mind racing to do something, anything, other than stand still and look stupid.

She then spoke, her voice soft, like an angel's, "Are you alright, professor?"

Leaving my hypnotic state, I replied, "Yes, miss Parker. I appreciate your concern. I am very well."

I disliked lying to her. I already lied to nearly everyone around me, why include her? Regardless, she smiled beautifully and left me to my internal conflicts.

After that... incident, I began subtly avoiding her. She also found new company not only amongst the members of her own house, but also the students of the guest schools. I wasn't sure how deep her friendships went, but that was neither my business nor a topic I planned on giving much thought to. I managed to push her out of my mind and concentrated on more important things, like protecting Potter from the dangers of this tournament, and the occasional warm sensation that erupted from the dark mark. Anything that could get my mind off Amelia Parker.

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**A/N:** This was short, I know. But I'll make up for it. Although I have a feeling my ideas of long chapters are below standards. Oh well. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** And here is the final chapter. Enjoy! Also, a Happy Christmas to everyone!

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**After the Yule Ball**

**Chapter Three**

Before I knew it, it was Christmas, the day of the Yule Ball. I changed into my dress robes after a relaxing bath (I was going to need all the relaxing aids I could get) and tried to look decent enough for a fancy party. Once declared finished, I left for the Great Hall.

There she was, looking more stunning than I had ever seen her. Leading her by the arm was a tall, muscular Durmstrang boy. He seemed appropriate for her, I thought. Not that I was one to judge other people's choice of affairs, but Amy was the one person I seemed to look after.

The party was tedious, with foul music being played and the pressure of putting on a show on the dance floor. I refused and stayed at the teachers' table, enjoying the food, which was about the only good thing that night. I also helped myself to more firewhiskey than I should have, a decision I would surely regret later.

I recall leaving exceptionally early. The dark mark had been steadily increasing its burn and Karkaroff had sought me, his face showing both how concerned and how coward he was. He annoyed me deeply. As did the students with their excessive snogging in rosebushes. Although exploding plants and removing house points was rather envious of me, though I could never admit to that.

I made my way back to the dungeons, hoping to end that horrible night. Christmas was never a time of year I particularly enjoyed. I paced the corridors, lost in my own thoughts. That was when I heard a strange noise. I moved towards its source and was able to make out small sobs. Finally reaching a space behind a large statue, I was shocked to find Amy rolled up on the floor crying helplessly.

Unsure of how to react, I called her name a few times. She looked up, her face drenched in her own tears. I sat down beside her and stroked her arm in what I hoped was a comforting way.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She looked distressed and her voice came out shaky. "He left me in the middle of the party to snog Mary, can you believe it? How? How could he do that to me?"

I remained in silence, partly because I hadn't the slightest idea of what to say.

She continued, "They haven't forgotten what I did in fourth year. And they told the guest students, I'm sure. I mean, why else would he be so disrespectful?"

I then spoke, "We shouldn't talk about that here. Come to my office, I'll make you some tea."

I offered her my handkerchief, with which she wiped off her tears. I put out my hand and helped her up. We had barely walked into my office when she took off her shoes and tossed them to the side. I hadn't realized she was so comfortable here.

She sat on top of my table and stared off into space. I sat down next to her and awkwardly placed a hand around her shoulder. She leaned in and said, "Why is it, professor, that people are unable to forgive us for our mistakes? Why do they come back to haunt us when we least expect? Are we supposed to forever live with the weight of our bad choices, no matter how much we regret it?"

Her words touched me like few others ever had. Without really thinking, I turned to her and pressed my lips against hers. All the feelings I had bottled up on the inside came rushing out through our contact. She must have unleashed hers too, for she kissed me back with strong passion.

Before I knew it, my senses had been invaded by her smell, her softness, her taste... of firewhiskey?

The realization made me break out of our kiss. She was drunk, and I was clearly taking advantage of her vulnerability. She opened her eyes in hurt surprise to find my concerned ones.

"It's okay," she breathed in my ear, pulling me into another kiss.

It deepened, slipping out of my control. She kneeled on the table and placed her legs on either side of mine so she was facing me. My hands moved to her waist without my knowledge as she held on to the back of my neck. She pressed her body against mine, sending waves of heat up and down my spine.

My heartbeat raced as she ran her hands down my chest and removed my upper garments, exposing my bare skin, hot as fire. My fingers searched her back for a zipper and, once found, I pulled it down in a swift movement, allowing her to climb out of her dress.

She was perfect. Her curves seemed to have been sculpted with utmost precision. Her porcelain skin completed her angelic looks. She didn't belong to this world but rather, to the heavens.

I scooped her up and sat her down on the table, throwing aside papers and ink bottles. I kissed her neck, reaching back to the opening of her bra. I brought my lips to her breasts, softly kissing her nipples. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping her parted lips.

I kissed down her stomach, stopping at the thin fabric that fit around her hips. I looked up at her, asking for permission to move on. She smiled in approval, and I slid the cloth down her legs. Spreading them slightly, I proceeded to cause her as much pleasure as it was possible.

The sounds she emitted and the way she contorted her body told me I had achieved my goal. She dug her fingernails deep into my skin, but the pain was minimal compared to the intense feelings that flooded through my veins.

I ran my fingers through her hair, untying her bun. Her hair was softer than cotton, shining brightly under the candlelight. Our shadows danced in a perfect rhythm of their own creation. Together, they watched as the lustful couple sang the song of the ritual that would forever change their lives.

Once we were finished, she threw herself back to lay flat on the table. She looked exhausted. I looked down at her, amazed at the sight. Recovering my breath, I whispered, "I'll make you some tea."

Her eyes slowly flickered open and she smiled softly. I helped her to her feet and led her to my private rooms, where we wrapped our sweaty bodies with robes.

She curled up on my sofa while I prepared her beverage. She looked around curiously, taking in this new scenery. I came back with her tea, handed her the mug and retreated to the bathroom, where I showered briefly. Walking past the main room, I saw Amy fast asleep, her empty mug resting on the side table.

As much as I hated disturbing an angel during its sleep, I took her into my arms and carried her to my bed. I was sure she hadn't woken up, until I turned to leave the room and heard her mutter, "Please, don't leave me." Perhaps it was her sweet voice that allured me, but the next thing I knew, I had snug in next to her, placing and arm around her small waist.

I woke up the following morning to find a mess of blonde hair on my face. Not completely conscious and clueless about what was going on, I jumped out of bed in a sudden movement, causing my head to tingle slightly. I looked back and saw beautiful Amy, her eyelids closed, her lips only barely touching each other.

I hated being that man who simply left in the morning, but the events from the previous night had come rushing back and, along with them, came the regret. What had I done? I asked myself over and over as I showered and dressed in my regular clothes. I left a note and a vial of pain killing potions, in case Amy needed them, before heading for breakfast.

The Great Hall was unusually empty that morning. Understandable, really. After taking longer than it was necessary to finish eating, I set out for a walk around the castle, not wanting to get back to my room right away. I wasted an awful lot of time with Karkaroff's nonsense, but by lunchtime, I was sure it was safe to return to my quarters.

The whole place still smelled like Amy's perfume. But she was nowhere in sight, to my relief. I wondered if my behavior would possibly make her upset. Perhaps I should have just stuck around, given her an awkward "good morning", waited to see her smile. Her eyes would slowly open and turn wide in shock at the sight of her surroundings. But at least I would be there to tell her everything was fine. Even though it didn't feel that way to me.

I sat down on my bed, my head swirling with the ideas of what could have been, when I noticed the empty vial of painkillers, and the note, which had something added in a familiar curvy handwriting.

I picked it up and read the words, "Thank you for the best Christmas I've ever had."

A lone tear escaped my eyes and ran down my face. The corners of my lips slowly turned upwards, as I realised this had been an amazing Christmas.

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**A/N:** The end! I hope you liked it. I know I keep repeating myself, but I just might continue this, if I get enough inspiration. We'll see what happens. Thank you so much for reading.


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